


Prove You Wrong

by Silenceintheroom (OasisSunset)



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Them being all grown and domestic, playing fast and loose with the canon plot points, the happy ending they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OasisSunset/pseuds/Silenceintheroom
Summary: But,” L reached out, letting his manacled hand hover above Light’s, fingers outstretched, an almost motion, “I do know you.”Light shuddered at that, his eyes flaring hot for a moment, even as L glimpsed the underlying fear. What must it be like, to be known for the first time in your life? That was a stupid question. L already knew the answer.
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Comments: 11
Kudos: 136





	Prove You Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I know it's 2020, but I'm convinced quarantine is a liminal space that runs parallel to the late 2000s. Also I realized that like 13 year old me never recovered from the ending of this series.
> 
> Title from the 2010 He is We song. If you're gonna write for something that peaked in 2013, go big or go home, right?

In the quiet of the late night, L found himself staring blankly at his computer screen, his fingers poised unmoving over the keys. He had been sitting like this for a frankly embarrassing amount of time, his thoughts far from the case files staring back at him from the computer screen. 

Finally, with a sigh, he admitted defeat and closed the laptop with a quiet snap. He sat still in the darkness for a few more long seconds, letting his eyes become accustomed to the dark, and then let his head fall to rest on his right shoulder. Beside him on the bed, Light was curled on his left side, his breaths deep and even. The rhythmic rise and fall of his side was hypnotizing and somehow oddly soothing. 

This man was a conundrum to L, a puzzle missing every other piece. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Light had been Kira at one point, but since they had been chained together, Kira was nowhere to be found in him. How curious, that Kira could depart from Light’s mind altogether, seemingly without a trace, and leave behind only the man that Light should have been, witty and whip-smart, competitive and serious. L didn’t know what to do with this turn of events. Would Kira come back? A voice deep in his chest, heavy with an inexplicable sense of dread, whispered that he would. But whether he would come back while they remained chained together was another question altogether.

Huffing a breath out through his nose, L lowered himself carefully onto his right side, facing Light, studying the peaceful set of his features in sleep. This type of deep, restful sleep was not that of a mass murderer. L stared and stared, letting time unspool around him until eventually his eyes must have fluttered closed; when he next opened them, the faint light of dawn was filtering in through the blinds.

The case progressed quickly with Light working beside him. It was exhilarating to finally have someone capable of truly working a case with him. Although Light didn’t like to show it, L sometimes caught sight of a similar appreciation in Light’s eyes, sharp and appraising whenever L offered a theory, piecing together the clues they had uncovered. It made something cold trickle into L’s heart, if only for the fact that Kira had never looked at him like that. When he had worked beside Light as Kira, those same eyes had held only sharpness, only raw edges and cold calculation when they studied him.

When the other team members had left the office for their lunch break one afternoon, which Light and L typically worked through, Light tapped his finger twice on the table decisively and turned to L. L already recognized the glint in Light’s eyes, so he turned away from his computer warily and asked, “What is it?”

“When all of this is over,” Light began, “what will you do? Will you go back home?” He snorted then, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Not that I even know where home is for you.”

“England.” The word was out before L had really thought it through, and he was instantly berating himself. _How stupid was that. Kira will probably be able to take that bit of information and find out your name in less than two hours._

Light seemed equally surprised by the straightforward answer, but he blinked the emotion from his eyes quickly. “So? That’s where you’ll go?”

L shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe for a little while. I try to see my family when I can. But mostly, I just go where the cases are.”

“You have a family?” Light sounded truly incredulous, but also good-natured and more at ease than L could ever recall hearing him. L gave him a half-smile. Since he was evidently intent on giving out his personal information to a man 86% likely to have at one point participated in the murder of hundreds of people, he might as well go all the way.

“Yes. We’re not blood-related, but… still family.” 

Light hummed softly, then quirked an eyebrow at L teasingly. “Are they all as strange as you?” L felt the fond smile curve his mouth as he turned his gaze upwards, wondering what havoc the others were wreaking right this very instant.

“Even stranger.” 

“That’s not possible,” Light laughed, and it jolted through L unexpectedly. As he turned back to Light, he realized, suddenly, that it was because he had never seen Light laugh so freely and so genuinely before. The man at his side always seemed to be playing about six different roles simultaneously: clever student, devoted boyfriend, ardent pursuer of justice. It was the first time L had looked at the man beside him and known with absolute certainty, _This is Light Yagami._

Halfway across the world, Mello trudged out to the hill where he knew Matt liked to sit. As he crested the ridge, his suspicions proved correct when Matt looked up and flashed him a grin. In his hands, he looked to be whittling a small block of wood into something as of yet indiscernible. Mello shook his head as he sat down beside the other boy, resting his back against the large trunk of the tree and feeling the bark snag in the back of his shirt. The soft scrape of Matt’s knife against the wood was oddly soothing.

Eventually, he turned his head toward Matt and murmured off-handedly, “I just heard from Watari. He says the case is progressing.” 

Matt hummed. “So what’s that really mean, then?”

“Who knows.” Mello cracked one eye open to look at him. “But what’s really interesting is that it sounds like L’s invested in someone.”

“What, like a suspect?”

“Nah, like a _person_. I think. I don’t really know, Watari was vague on the details.”

Beside him, Matt’s knife slipped and the wood thumped abruptly onto the grass. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Mello rolled his eyes. “I mean, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Watari sounded like he had mixed feelings about it.” He snorted, looking up at the blue sky through the fine latticework of leaves. “I mean, knowing L, it’s probably a fucking serial killer or something.”

One night, after an exhausting day of meetings and debriefings and high tempers from everyone on the team, L was sat at their small kitchen table, cradling a cup of well-sugared coffee between his palms. Light was moving around the kitchen, likely trying to scrape together some semblance of dinner. When he went to reach for the cupboard that held the glasses, though, he miscalculated and the chain between them pulled taut with a clatter, yanking him off balance. Hissing, he straightened and shook out his wrist, rubbing where the metal had bitten sharply into his skin. When he glanced up at L, a wry smile was on his lips. 

“Sometimes I forget that thing’s even there. I don’t really feel the weight any more, you know.” L nodded, suddenly acutely aware of the steel band around his own wrist. He was just about to stand so that Light could actually retrieve his glass, when Light took two big steps towards him instead and fell into the rickety plastic chair across the table. His eyes ensnared L’s immediately, serious and deep.

“L. I need to ask you something.” Light frowned down at where both of his hands were resting carefully on the table. “You were so sure that I was Kira, before. I’ve read your notes from back then. Your rationale makes sense. It’s logical.” L felt both of his eyebrows climbing as Light continued, “If I weren’t me, I probably would have come to the same conclusion. But now things don’t match up. I can’t be Kira because the deaths are continuing even when I’m never six feet from your side. So, I’m asking you- do you think I am Kira _now_?”

His eyes were so sharp when they met L’s, determined and fierce, and L’s heart was beating hard in his chest for some godforsaken reason. He took a deep breath, hesitated. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “You’re right– things changed once you were chained to me. But one thing I have learned in the course of this case, Light Yagami, is to never underestimate your intelligence. It is entirely possible that you came up with a way to transfer Kira, or the memory of him, away from yourself for the duration of this time. This conclusion begs the question: if you were once Kira, are you still, even if you don’t remember?”

The furrow between Light’s brows became more pronounced. “I don’t know. L,” his eyes found L’s again, troubled and, for once, honest. “Do you know what it’s like to constantly question yourself, to play mind games in your own head all the time? I don’t know if I was Kira, but there’s the _chance_. If I killed all of those people…” Light shook his head. “If I killed all of those people, then I would deserve to die.”

“Stop,” L told him, lurching to his feet. For some reason, the possibility of Light’s death made something pull tight inside of him, a premonition of the void he already knew he would feel when Light left his side. “I don’t know what to do right now, either. Nothing about this case has been easy. I don’t even know the full scope of what we’re dealing with. But,” he reached out, letting his manacled hand hover above Light’s, fingers outstretched, an almost motion, “I do know _you._ ”

Light shuddered at that, his eyes flaring hot for a moment, even as L glimpsed the underlying fear. What must it be like, to be known for the first time in your life? That was a stupid question. L already knew the answer.

L was once again working on a case late into the night when Light jerked awake beside him, gasping, his fingers clawing at the sheets. L startled and then twisted, wide-eyed, to catch hold of Light’s arms, pinning them down before he hurt himself. “Light,” he whispered urgently, “Light, Light.” Light’s eyes fluttered open, meeting L’s own, wild and haunted. They stayed like that for a long while, their heartbeats gradually slowing together. L stayed quiet, waiting for Light to be ready to speak, his grip remaining sure on Light’s arms.

Finally, Light closed his eyes for a moment and then turned towards him, seemingly more himself. “A nightmare,” he murmured. “I can never really remember the details, but... this place in my head is…” He paused, and L realized how very rarely he had seen Light struggle for words, Light with his quicksilver tongue and his fox’s cunning. His tone was bitter, a touch self-deprecating when he finished, “…somewhere I’m afraid to go.”

L didn’t speak, but only let his arms slide as Light shifted onto his side until he could hold him close. Pressed chest to chest like this, the chain tangled between them, L could feel the still-fast beat of Light’s heart echoing against his own. Finally, he drew a breath and murmured into Light’s hair, “I think we all dream in shadows sometimes, Light.” Light’s fingers tightened against his back momentarily.

Curled together like this, hidden by the blanket of night, L tried desperately to ignore the ache in his heart as he held Light close, protective. His eyes glared into the darkness over Light’s shoulder, seeking out the hunter’s gaze he had seen staring back at him out of Light’s eyes so many times before. _Don’t come back_ , he begged in the depths of his mind. _You can have the whole damn world, what do I care, but not this man. Not this man._

Winter came. Ice frosted the streets and the gray clouds drifted heavy and low. Twinkling lights slowly sprang up around the city, twined around bridges and lampposts. When the first snowfall came, the flakes dancing down out of the night sky like tiny stars and gathering into drifts, it was two in the morning. L seemed to have no qualms about this minor detail as he dragged Light out of bed and down the stairs out into the frosted air, expertly brushing away his unamused complaints.

However, on the pavement in front of their building, the world empty except for the two of them, Light stared up into the sky and a wistful smile stole across his face, his features bathed in the soft light of the moon. Snowflakes caught in his dark hair and in his eyelashes, and Light experimentally stuck his tongue out and then laughed at himself, turned to L grinning. L didn’t know what expression was on his face, but he felt raw and exposed, pangs of something he was too scared to think about clutching vise-like around his chest.

They walked for a while, going nowhere in particular. When L was distracted, listing aloud some possibilities for a lesser case that had recently come across his desk, Light took his hand, eyes mischievous and sparkling, and yanked him down into the snow, ignoring L’s protests. L was still wearing the oversized t-shirt he had worn to bed and the sudden sensation of fresh snow on his skin was so cold and sharp, it almost burned. He retaliated immediately, tackling Light down onto his back, and they wrestled in the snow until they had exhausted themselves. Lying in the snow afterwards, trying to catch their breath, Light rose up suddenly onto one elbow, shifted until he was hovering over L. When he dipped his head, eyes curious and sharp, L lifted his chin easily and let this man who had once been Kira kiss him, and nothing in his life had ever felt more right.

As they trudged back to the building, cold and damp and shivering, but in good spirits, Light tilted his head minutely to the side and off-handedly solved the case that L had been telling him about earlier. It caught L so off-guard, he laughed, loud in the quiet of the night. He didn’t even mind the smug expression on Light’s face because his eyes were warm and teasing, and L knew suddenly, with a staggering certainty, that one way or another, he would not survive this man.

L was lying with his head on Light’s chest, letting the rhythmic breathing rock him closer to sleep, when Light suddenly carded his fingers through L’s messy hair, bringing him out of his doze.

“Hm?” L asked sleepily, recognizing the question in the movement. Beneath him, Light’s chest rose and fell sharply on a sigh, and then Light murmured, with quiet certainty, “We both know that Kira is biding his time. He will come back to me. It’s just a matter of time.” Here, Light tucked a finger beneath L’s chin and coaxed him to lift his head so that he could meet Light’s eyes. “When that happens,” Light told him, soft and sure, “you must act quickly.”

L was already shaking his head, but Light stilled the movement with his hand. His eyes were hard and immovable when L met them. “L. Promise me,” he said, and L had never heard Light beg like that, and it tore pieces of his heart away in bloody strips. “You’d be setting me free.”

L could not remember the last time he had cried, but there, in the cocoon of Light’s arms and the warmth of their shared bed, in the shadow of a future life just glimpsed on the horizon, L felt the sting of tears pricking his eyes. “How can you ask me to do that?” he hissed at Light, his voice harsh and desperate. 

The determination didn’t leave Light’s body, still coiled tight in his muscles, but his eyes softened, and he lifted his chin so that it rested on the crown of L’s head. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “No one else will do it, L. Kira, with my mind, will make gathering evidence against me a long and painful process, at best. Thousands will die in that time. _You_ will die. But you know the truth now. You said it before– you know me. You know Kira, too. Don’t let him win.”

L was shaking as Light spoke, the gentle vibration of his words lost in the harsh breaths suddenly wracking his body as if it didn’t even belong to him anymore, because he knew, in the core of his heart, that Light was speaking the truth. If it were only his own life, he would give it up in a heartbeat, but for it to be Light’s as well… He had never hated Kira quite like this, with desperation and pain so all-consuming he could taste them on his tongue.

L could feel in the taut muscles of Light’s body that he was still waiting for an answer, so finally L gathered himself and leaned back enough that he could meet Light’s eyes. He felt like his own must be bleak with his defeat. To this man whom he had already given everything that mattered, everything but a name, he whispered, “I’ll try.”

It didn’t seem to satisfy Light completely, but something in L’s eyes must have warned him against pushing further. He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to the corner of L’s mouth and then lay back down, so trusting that it sent vicious cracks through L’s already-weak heart.

Inside the cramped interior of a helicopter, L’s entire world shuddered on its axis and then fell away from it entirely. As he held the Death Note in his hands, staring into the eyes of a death god as his mind struggled to jump from point to point, all he could think was, _Light, Light_. How could Light have stood a chance in the face of a god? And Kira–

It was in the midst of this distraction that Light snaked a hand across the seat and snagged the Death Note from L’s limp fingers. Instantly, L felt what remained of his world fall out from beneath his feet as Light threw his head back and howled in such agony that L wondered, panic-stricken, whether another unseen death god had plunged a clawed fist into Light’s heart and torn it straight from his chest. 

When Light finally fell silent, L reached a hand out to him, shaking, but for some inexplicable reason, his fingers hesitated inches from Light’s forearm. He was suddenly acutely aware of the icy dread that had settled in his heart when Light first touched the notebook beginning to crawl through his veins. “Light,” L whispered, and then fell silent, shocked at the hoarse wreck of his own voice.

Beside him, Light slowly lifted his head, as though he were moving in a dream, and shook his hair from his eyes. When he turned to look at L, L felt his breath leave him so quickly, Light might as well have sucked the very air from his lungs. Every hair on his body felt like it was standing on end as Kira studied him through half-slitted, calculating eyes, eyes that L had grown so familiar with over the past few weeks, eyes whose color and expressions he knew by heart.

Light stared down at the notebook in his hands as they flew back to the hotel, his head aching something fierce as he tried to reconcile all of the memories from the past few months with L into the greater framework of his life. A part of him was chanting ecstatically, _You were right, you were right, I planned for this, Kira planned–_ as another simultaneously slammed its fists against the edges of his mind, howling, _Holy fuck, this is the part where I kill L, L who is looking at me like I’m holding his own life hostage, L who would throw this game for Light Yagami’s life._

Light tried to block both voices out and found himself staring at the way his fingers curled around the edges of the notebook, expecting somehow, that hands that had killed thousands would look different. But there was no blood lodged under his fingernails or dying the creases of his palms red. 

The carnage was, rather, mostly inside his own mind. As some part of him had distantly registered L calling his name when he took the Death Note, Light had gazed, horrified, at the state of his –of Kira’s– internal world. Telephone poles lay collapsed and sparking uselessly in puddles glossy with chemicals as dilapidated houses listed on rotting frames. On the crumbling concrete walls of churches, graffiti in his own deranged handwriting cried, _Kira is justice, Kira is god._ In the middle of it all, Light could make out the slight frame of what could only be L, a ghost of him, Kira’s dream, his white shirt standing out starkly where he lay curled on the ground, his black hair matted with dirt or blood or both. In the hollows of his sunken cheekbones, twin black voids stared back at Light accusingly. 

It was a light touch to his shoulder that woke him, and he jerked upright with a start. At his side, L was gazing down at him, his eyes carefully shuttered in a way that Light hadn’t seen them in months. “We’re here,” L murmured softly, and then he turned and jumped down onto the pavement without a backwards glance. Light shook the last vestiges of his dream from his mind and followed after him.

It was several days later before he met with Misa, and for all the cruel remarks he had made about her intelligence before, she understood immediately the new hesitance in his eyes.

“It’s L, isn’t it?” She asked, an eyebrow raised. “You won’t kill him. He’s just a reflection of you, after all.” Light curled his hands into fists until he felt his nails break the skin of his palms at the dismissiveness in her tone.

“What are you talking about?”

Misa spun back to him, eyes flashing. “If you think this wasn’t a game to L, then you’re a fool. He gambled his life because it was a challenge, and one hidden behind a worthy cause at that. Just like you. And he’s gambled more lives than his own to win. But you… He didn’t plan on you.” She averted her gaze with a huff. “Or rather, he didn’t plan on Light.”

Light bared his teeth, suddenly itching for a fight. “I _am_ Light.”

“ _No_ , you’re not.” Misa turned back and took a step towards him, and Light jerked his head up, eyes flashing. “Kira is the one who is strong enough to make the decisions that no one else can. Kira is the one who dreams of a world broken to justice. Light Yagami is just a smart kid who sold his soul before he even knew the full deal, and what? Now you want it back?” 

“Enough!” Light barked. “That’s enough. How dare you…” Light stalked towards her, relishing the sudden flicker of uncertainty in her eyes and hissed, low, “I am Kira, and I _will_ kill L. You know _nothing_ of who I am and who I am not.”

Misa met his gaze defiantly before her eyes fluttered closed on a sigh. “Light. Letting yourself meet L, the Light who has no recollection of the Death Note, the Light who is _weak_ , was the stupidest thing you ever did.”

Light turned away from her abruptly, the rage draining suddenly and absolutely from his limbs, and made for the door, his body still shaking with adrenaline, only adrenaline. As his fingers touched the door handle, however, Misa’s voice, strong and certain behind him, drew him to a halt.

“Light. _I_ will be the one to kill L if you don’t do it.”

Light hesitated, but when he turned back to her, Misa felt a smile curl across her lips. The man looking back at her was all Kira in his eyes now, and Kira never knew how to back down from a challenge.

Misa waited exactly five days. She figured the new world wasn’t just going to come about by itself, especially with Light stalling. And besides, she could see the way that Light was drifting from her, was instead always turning to Ryuzaki like he was the sun towards which Light grew. Misa snorted. How pathetic to see Light, the god of the new world, trailing around after Ryuzaki like the chain had never been removed but simply faded out of sight. Ryuzaki, who had taken everything else from her– her life, her career, her innocence, her peace of mind. She would never let him have Light, too.

It was these thoughts that clouded her mind, fogged her rationality as she climbed the steps up to the hotel lobby, the weight of the gun in her purse solid and sure. She wasn’t worried about the aftermath. She would kill Ryuzaki, and after, if she was imprisoned until Light came to power, so be it. With Ryuzaki out of the way, Misa had little doubt that Light would shake those soft emotions from his eyes, the ones that had never lived in his gaze when he looked at her, and take his rightful place as the ruler of this world. Then she would become his queen and he would finally give her the life she had been waiting for since she gave up everything for him all of those years ago. Everything would get back on track.

When she stepped out of the elevator onto the investigation floor, she called Matsuda to let her into the headquarters working room, knowing that he wouldn’t think to check her bag like he was supposed to. Sure enough, as Matsuda rounded the corner, he was already talking a mile a minute, contemplating where the case would turn next, soon this would all be behind them, what did she think about that new clothing line that had debuted the other day, it seemed like just her thing. Misa looped her arm through his, flashed him her winning smile, and mentally patted herself on the back when Matsuda didn’t even glance at her bag as he led her back to the command room.

When she entered the room, Misa cast her gaze around quickly, but Light and Ryuzaki were both conspicuously missing. The other members of the team barely spared her a glance, as she had become somewhat of a fixture since they had taken to imprisoning Light here. When she asked Light’s father where his son was, he gestured haphazardly at the corridor, said he had gone back to his room to grab a thumb drive he had left up there. Yes, Ryuzaki was probably with him.

Misa breezed back out of the room without arousing any suspicion, took the stairs up one more floor to the residential part of the mission headquarters, and made her way down the hallway toward Light’s room. She had decided to check his room first even though she had a sneaking suspicion he was probably in Ryuzaki’s room instead. Although Light had been given his own room after Ryuzaki had freed him from the chain, Light acted like he couldn’t remember what it was like to be further than six feet from Ryuzaki’s side. 

The few times she had been in Light’s room, it had never looked lived in. The bed was always neatly made, the complimentary toiletries in the bathroom untouched. Ryuzaki’s room, on the other hand, still bore the tell-tale signs of two inhabitants: Light’s book neatly bookmarked on the bedside table, a plate of cookies saran-wrapped on the counter. A sheet of hotel stationary bearing Light’s meticulous handwriting wedged under a corner of Ryuzaki’s laptop on the desk, as though the detective had been referencing it when he was called away.

Misa was scowling at the memories even as she banged her fist on Light’s door and was met with silence. With a huff, she spun quickly on her heel and walked the rest of the way down the hallway toward Ryuzaki’s room. When she was about three doors past it, she turned and stepped carefully back into the shadow of a doorway. When they emerged, they would turn right and head toward the elevators, not thinking to glance the opposite way down the hallway. Then Misa would step from her hiding place, aim the gun, and fire right between L’s shoulder blades. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.

In L’s hotel room, Light was rummaging through a stack of papers piled haphazardly on the desk, muttering to himself, “I know it’s here somewhere. I had it just this morning before we went down for the morning briefing.”

L was crouched on the bed, his elbows braced on his knees, watching Light with an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Light had been searching for this thumb drive for ten minutes now, and L was about 76% certain it didn’t even have the files on it that Light wanted. He was pretty sure that was the other thumb drive back downstairs, but God forbid Light let him stick it in the computer to check before dragging them upstairs to hunt for this one.

It was moments like this that wrapped themselves around L’s heart and clenched tight until he was left almost gasping for breath. Moments when he was sitting somewhere, exasperated with Light over something that didn’t really matter, watching him search for something he had misplaced with ever-growing frustration. It was so human, so domestic in the sense that in moments like this, L could just glimpse the ghost of a life together unspooling into the years ahead of them. The future years of that phantom life were studded with these tiny moments like stars, and he wanted all of it, the quiet mornings with the rain whispering against the windows while Light lay curled against his side, and the irritating moments when he knew he was right, but Light was going to be stubborn about it. He wanted the teasing flash of Light’s eyes and the intelligent spark behind them, and the way they darkened when he pressed L back into the bedsheets late at night.

But the possibility of that life had burned away like mist in the sun the instant Light had touched the notebook in the helicopter. Those eyes L thought he had known so well had suddenly gone cold and calculating, steel where before there had been only warmth, and bitterness had suddenly clogged L’s throat until he could hardly breathe. All he had known was the sudden bone-deep certainty that this must be what true fear and despair felt like, stilling his pulse and drowning him faster than saltwater in his lungs. 

Of course, it wasn’t Kira that he feared and despaired of, but rather the sudden catastrophic understanding that he had lost Light, lost any hope of that future life he hadn’t even realized he had been holding onto so tightly, praying it wouldn’t slip through his fingers just like this, with one careless touch. The situation was made even more unbearable for the fact that although Kira was never far beneath the surface, sometimes Light shone through so clearly on days like today, ripping open the ragged stitches that L tried increasingly desperately to tie off across his heart. Seeing Light there across the room, so clearly himself, L wanted nothing more than to go to him, drape his arms tight around Light’s neck as if that might be enough to keep Kira at bay, tell him everything it was now too late to say in one final, gasping breath. 

Across the room, Light shifted some more papers and then straightened up, triumphantly holding the errant USB between thumb and forefinger. “Got it! I knew it was here somewhere!” He tucked the USB into his pocket, eyes already distant, focused on the next puzzle. “Ready?” he asked L.

L hopped down from the bed and promptly stumbled, not having factored in his legs cramping from crouching for so long, but Light caught his elbow easily, steadying him. L tore his arm from Light’s grip immediately, and the subsequent flash of hurt in Light’s eyes was so sharp that for a moment L almost let himself believe it was real. “I’m fine,” he muttered, turning away.

He reached the hotel room door first and pulled it open, stepping back to allow Light to pass through before him. Since Kira had returned, he felt more at ease when he could keep Light in his sights. He didn’t think it would stop Kira from killing him, but maybe if he could just postpone his death for a little while longer, he could think of a way to bring Light back. The thought made a corner of his mouth twitch up wryly. The very idea begged the question, how much of Light was intrinsically Kira and vice versa? Even if he could erase Light’s memories of the Death Note again, was that really sustainable? 

His thoughts were interrupted by Light himself falling back beside him to catch his attention as they made their way toward the elevator. “Ryuzaki, I was thinking, when we get back downstairs, we could try and run that new dataset against the deaths again. There might be a pattern we-“

L jerked to a stop, suddenly fed up with the whole situation, with himself, with this game where they pretended that since Light had regained his memories (not that he would ever admit it), he must have forgotten all of the ones that L now held so close to his own heart. “Why are you calling me that?”

“What?” Light stepped around in front of him easily, and his eyes were such a picture of innocence that L wanted to reach out and shake him.

“You spent about 83% of our time together calling me L against my wishes, and now you decide to call me Ryuzaki? Don’t you think it’s a bit late?” L heard his voice rising, and he knew objectively that this was stupid and pointless, picking a fight with Light now. But some part of him was desperate to claw away Light’s mask even for a moment, to see if beneath that flawless veneer some trace of the man he had loved might still linger.

Light’s brow furrowed, and he seemed, for once, like he might be at a loss for words. L was glaring at him with the full force of all of the grief and sorrow and anger that had been itching beneath his skin for the past month, so he noticed when Light’s eyes suddenly snapped to something just over his right shoulder. They widened in surprise, but then flickered with such pure, unadulterated fear that L felt his heart still with dread. He was already whirling around when the impact hit him, slammed him to the ground and tore the breath from his lungs.

His ears were still ringing from the sound of the shot as he twisted onto his side, glimpsed Misa Amane standing down the hallway in the direction they had come, the gun falling from her fingers, her eyes wide with horror, uncomprehending. And L knew, then, just from the expression on her face. His blood burned hot and then turned to ice in his veins, and suddenly he was gasping for a different reason. He could barely get Light’s name out past the sudden weight crushing his chest.

Behind him, Light lay crumpled on his side, his limbs bent at unnatural angles as though he had tried to catch himself, liquid dark as ink slowly spreading across the fabric of his shirt.

“Light, Light.” The words felt torn form him as L crawled to Light’s side, the ringing in his ears escalating until it was the only thing he could hear. Light blinked open his eyes blearily as L knelt beside him, and that small flicker of life launched L into action. He hurriedly pressed both of his hands into the mess of blood on Light’s chest, leaned all of his body weight there. The heat of the blood, the sluggish pump of this evidence of Light’s life against his fingers, made the panicked bird in L’s chest take flight.

He tossed a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of Misa still standing in the hallway, looking small and lost, her face deathly pale. “Go get help!” L shouted to her. “Go to the others, call an ambulance!” Misa blinked slowly, but the sound of his voice seemed to rouse her, and she wobbled forward a few steps, then seemed to catch her balance and sprinted for the elevator. She slammed the button over and over as sobs began to wrack her body.

L was pressing as hard as he could into the wound on Light’s chest, willing his shaking hands steady. “Light, Light, can you hear me?” he panted. Light slit his eyes open again, attempting to focus on L, and L, unable to risk removing the pressure of his hands, leaned forward to touch his nose to Light’s cheek. It was only as he felt the moisture against his skin that he realized he was crying. “I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. “I’m right here, you’re going to be okay. Just hold on a little longer. Misa’s going to get help, you’re going to be all right, you’re going to be…” L choked off, his hands slipping in the blood on Light’s chest. 

Although Light was clearly in shock, he seemed to be slowly registering the situation. “L,” he breathed, and the sight of fear beginning to creep into his eyes hit L with the force of a train. L leaned down until they were nose to nose again, trying to keep Light’s gaze from the wound. “Shhh,” he murmured, “Shhh, just keep breathing, just focus on that. I’ve got you. I’m right here.” L distantly registered the sound of shouting from the floor below, the panicked cries of the others as they started pounding up the stairs to them. In the distance, he imagined sirens were beginning to wail.

“L,” Light called again, his voice suddenly low and urgent, and L leaned back enough to meet his eyes. “L… All those people, I… But not you, not…” L shook his head sharply, cutting him off.

“I already know all of that. It doesn’t matter right now. Just breathe. Please.” Light’s eyes, even through the glaze of pain and growing alarm, managed to look incredulous, as though this were just another instance of L being ridiculous. L ducked his head to hide the fresh wave of heat welling behind his eyes at that, pressed his mouth into Light’s throat, slick with sweat and blood. Quietly, he began to pray to every deity whose name he could recall, promising everything he had to give. _Take anything, take everything, but not him, not him._

Then the others were on them, yelling over one another, shouting into phones, giving the paramedics the security information to access the floor. As the elevator doors finally slid open and the gurney was wheeled towards them, Light’s eyes slipped shut, and L began whispering to him anew. “It’s okay, Light, you’ll be all right, I’m here, I love you, do you hear, please, please, please.”

Someone’s strong arms came around his waist then, dragged him forcefully away from Light’s body, and L thrashed and screamed, but the arms only tightened around him. Through the blur of his tears, L watched them lift Light’s body, strap him onto the gurney. As they wheeled him away, back towards the open elevator, Light blinked his eyes open again, turned his head, clearly searching for L. When he didn’t initially find him, some of the fear began to creep back into his gaze, and L twisted so violently at that that Soichiro dropped him. L lunged for the elevator, but the doors slid shut before he could reach them, and then he was on his knees on the blood-stained carpet, chest heaving with sobs. He fell forward onto his hands, shaking, and some indefinable amount of time later, Watari was there, hugging him close and rocking him, but L could only tell him over and over, “It should have been me. He saved my life. It should have been me. It should have been me.”

Wordlessly, Watari helped him to his feet and led him to the elevator. When they were inside, he pressed the button for the garage level, and some of the weight in L’s chest finally lifted enough that he could breathe.

L left Watari alone with the nasty receptionist denying them entry for about three minutes in order to step outside and try to call Soichiro to let them in, but when he came back, the lady looked duly cowed and waved them past with only a mild look of disgust. When he attempted to press Watari for details, Watari only raised his eyebrows and pretended not to know what L was talking about. 

Soichiro met them as they made their way down the hallway, but it wasn’t until he told them that the wound was not fatal, having gone through Light’s left shoulder rather than his heart, that L realized how much weight he had been carrying on his shoulders. Light was currently receiving blood transfusions and getting stitched up, but there was only a very slim chance that he wouldn’t pull through. Hearing the news, all of L’s adrenaline seemed to leave him at once, and he had to lean against the wall for a moment to recover, his body suddenly shaking in the absence of all of the tension that had been keeping him on his feet. 

When Light emerged from surgery, he was still under the influence of sedatives and was not expected to stir for hours yet, but they were permitted into his room to see him. L promptly dragged an uncomfortable-looking hospital chair to the side of Light’s bed and crawled into it. Hesitating only briefly, he stretched out his hand until he could rest the tips of his fingers against Light’s right forearm, wanting to touch, but unsure of what was allowed. Light’s eyes looked sunken, his face haggard, even though less than twelve hours before he had been the picture of health.

L curled his fingers into the fabric of Light’s sleeve and lay his cheek on his arm, eyes still trained on Light’s face, until, eventually, he must have fallen asleep. When he blinked his eyes open again, the soft gray light of morning was just beginning to lighten the room. Slowly, L became aware of Light’s fingers resting in his hair, and when he turned his head, he heaved a breath of relief to see Light’s crooked smile fully in place even if exhaustion still lurked behind his eyes.

“You’re up,” Light commented, voice soft like he was afraid of waking the rest of the world. L had a crick in his neck, but he didn’t want to lift his head in case it made Light withdraw his hand, so he simply shifted his chin so that he could meet Light’s eyes better.

“I think I should be saying that to you, actually.” 

Light hummed softly, and then, much to L’s disappointment, extracted his hand from L’s hair. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmured.

L stretched his hand out, letting his fingertips rest on Light’s forearm much as they had the night before. “Once again, something I should be telling you.” Light turned his head then, finally looking L right in the eyes. It made something in L’s chest catch because, for once, there was nothing calculating in Light’s gaze, he wasn’t attempting to keep up about a hundred different fronts. This was just Light Yagami, lying here in an uncomfortable hospital bed fitted with a dozen tubes in all of his imperfection. His eyes were still sharp as ever, but raw and open and a bit curious in a way that L had never seen before, not even when Light was without his memories.

“What happens now?” Light asked. L thought about feigning ignorance, but he didn’t want to tempt Light into getting out of bed to tackle him when he was still clearly recovering.

“Well.” L tapped his fingers against Light’s arm in thought. “We have Misa in custody. She admits guilt, and to someone not familiar with the case, it makes perfect sense for her to be the first Kira. She has been close to the case from its start and is familiar with all of us and the course of the investigation. Of course, to those of us intimately involved in the case, there are a number of loose ends that doesn’t tie up,” L huffed quietly. “But of course, that’s where having good connections comes in, of which I have several.” 

When Light didn’t immediately retort that they were all probably just various aliases of himself, L looked up abruptly. Light was staring at him like he had never seen him before, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. “Light?” L ventured tentatively, leaning forward. Light squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head jerkily a couple of times. When he opened his eyes again, he seemed no less puzzled.

“But aren’t I supposed to die now? You said you know everything. I’m sure Misa just did away with any remaining doubts you had.”

L was equally taken aback. “Die? We just got done trying to save your life!” Light pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand as though he were getting a headache.

“Yes, L, but,” here he paused, cast his eyes to the sky like he had never been this exasperated in his life, “you _won_. And I understand how you see Kira. I remember how I saw Kira when I didn’t know who he was. In that light, he’s a murderer. Genocidal. So his punishment is death. None of that is news to me, so you can drop the act.”

L could do nothing less than stare. “Light. I’m not going to kill you.” 

Light sneered, “But that’s what justice requires, right? What the law demands?”

“If I wanted to operate within the bounds of the law, I would have joined a police force,” L deadpanned. Light was so shocked that he stared for a moment before actually barking a laugh, which made L smile in turn, even after all of this, even now.

Finally, L heaved a sigh, moved his hand that he could interlace his fingers with Light’s properly. Light stiffened immediately, but when L went to pull away, Light tightened his fingers, viselike. The raw look was back in his eyes, something desperate there beneath what L was beginning to recognize as despair or resignation. He knew he would have to tread lightly with his next words. “Light. You don’t have to die. You already have all of this anger and pain and anguish in your soul, and isn’t that enough? I know that you will put yourself through hell more thoroughly than anyone else ever could." L frowned, considering. "And also, I love you, and I shot past being unbiased sometime after the first thirty minutes of bodily chaining you to myself.” L forced himself to meet Light’s eyes. “You don’t have to suffer forever, Light. It can be okay again, in time.”

Light disentangled his hand from L’s in order to brush angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why? Why should I deserve a second chance? I never gave anyone–“ L caught his hand again, gently drew it away from Light’s face, watched as his tears fell, honest.

“You don’t have to,” L told him. “You don’t have to deserve it.”

Light bowed his head then and his body shook with sobs, and L climbed half onto the bed, careful not to jostle Light and held him tight, the way he had when he thought the nights he had with Light beside him were numbered, when he wanted to remember every moment, every breath. He was a bit amused that Light thought him selfless enough to give all of that up himself, and he told Light so. Light huffed a laugh through his tears, turned his face into L’s chest and seemed like he might finally be experiencing some form of peace for the first time since L had known him.

Years later, Light snapped awake with a gasp, jolting halfway up before he even fully knew what was happening, his heart thundering so loudly he thought for a moment the sound must be coming from somewhere outside of himself. His entire body was shaking, a fine, barely-there vibration, and his clothes were clinging to his skin, damp with sweat. It took several long, slow moments of the harsh hiss of Light’s pants through his teeth before he blinked once, twice, and finally began to register his surroundings.

There were the big bay windows, the half moon outside turning the gauzy curtains to a river of pale silver. There was the silhouette of Prime Suspect Number One, curled up at the base of the bed, her gray head already raised inquisitively towards him. No doubt he had woken her in his fright. Light lifted a shaking hand in her direction, and the cat rose gracefully and padded to his side, tucking her pink nose into the palm of his hand. The feel of her silky fur, still warm from the bed, was soothing, but the vestiges of Light’s dream were still clinging around the edges of his mind like cobwebs, a voice snarling inside his head– Light twisted suddenly, his palm coming down beside himself on the bed, searching– and yes, there he was. He was still here, still here.

Beside him, L stirred at the touch, and Light winced as L drowsily blinked his eyes open; he hadn’t really meant to wake him. But L’s eyes cleared almost instantly when he registered Light sitting up in bed, one arm curled around Prime in his lap, the other on L’s leg still trembling.

“Light,” L whispered urgently, sitting up. He reached out, his hand colliding with Light’s cheek, still slow with sleep. “Light, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No.” Light took L’s hand from his face and then brought it to his lap, studying the fine bones in those pale, slender fingers, fragile like the bones of a bird’s wing.

“Hey.” L lifted the sheets so he could shift closer and let his head come to rest on Light’s shoulder. They sat that way for several long moments, the silence of the room absolute except for the muted hum of Prime’s purr as she delicately impaled Light’s thigh with her claws. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” L asked eventually, lifting his head a bit. Light shook his head mutely, knowing L could feel the movement, but he did let one hand tangle in L’s wild hair, absently working out the snags while his other soothed Prime.

Light couldn’t have guessed how long the three of them sat there like that then, the silk sheets pooled around them, the wood paneling of the manor sighing as it shifted with the night. It was long enough that Prime stopped torturing Light’s thigh and lay down, her whiskers tickling his skin, and L sighed and burrowed deeper into his shoulder, his body beginning to relax back towards sleep. 

It was into that quiet that Light finally murmured, “I dreamed about back then. So much blood on my hands they’re sticky with it. So much blood, my eyes reflect it, glowing red like some demon’s. And then… I…” It was here that L sat up and settled so that he was facing Light, looking into his eyes. Then, he leaned forward, took Light’s face in his hands and let his forehead rest against Light’s.

“That was years ago, Light,” he whispered. “So many years. Another lifetime ago.” Light huffed, tried to draw back, but L held him firm. “I mean it. Look around. Do you think Prime would let you pet her if she thought you were unforgivable?” In the darkness, L can just make out the ghost of Light’s smile. “See, that’s what I thought.”

Light gently extracted himself from L’s hands and absently rubbed Prime’s ears, his eyes downcast. “I am, though. Unforgivable.”

“Not to me.”

“You can’t forgive me on behalf of all of the people I’ve killed, L.”

“Maybe not. But,” L leaned forward until Light looked up again, catching his eye, “doesn’t it mean something, all of the people you’ve saved? Those kids, Light–former extremists, terrorists–no one else would have given them a second chance. But you did.”

“You did it for me,” Light answered.

“And isn’t that the best thing I ever did?” L mused, his eyes gently teasing. “I’m only thirty-six and I already have the most talented, stunning husband in the world, someone to share a home and cases and a cat with, someone to force to taste my latest cake invention–“

Light shoved him gently with his shoulder, his voice gruff. “Stop it, you’ll make me emotional. No one wants that.” 

L laughed and then leaned forward slightly, and Light lifted his chin so L could kiss him, soft and reverent. As Light gently moved Prime so he could lie back down, L drew him close, brought Light’s head down onto his chest.

“Do you remember,” L breathed into the quiet, “how we found Prime?”

Light hummed, already growing drowsy from the soft vibration of L’s voice against his ear. “Yes. You set the cake outside…”

“And when I came back thirty minutes later after making a call, half of it was gone! And I’d worked on it all day!”

“And you said…”

“And I said, ‘I bet it’s that stray cat that’s always lurking around. How about it, Light Yagami, is that our prime suspect?’”

Light was smiling now. “Yes,” he said into L’s shirt. “It was her.”

“It was _not_ ,” L retorted. “I left a piece out later that day to see if I could catch her in the act, and I _saw_ you eat it. You just blamed that innocent cat in an effort to escape my wrath. Righteous wrath, by the way.”

Light yawned. “But then I left the fish out for her that night to make it up to her. And she never left.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know why she sticks around. You re-accuse her every time you call her name.”

Light turned his head so he could press a soft kiss to the underside of L’s jaw. “Lawliet,” he breathed, an admonition and a declaration, and L shuddered beneath him and held him even tighter. Across the room, L could just make out the faint glowing red eyes of Kira’s ghost, watching them spitefully. But then L pressed his lips into Light’s hair, daring Kira with his eyes, and the spirit blinked uncertainly. Kira never knew what to do with love. He planned for everything, but never for that. As Light fell asleep against him, a deep and peaceful slumber now, Prime curled against his other side, L watched as Kira’s eyes grew more and more unsure. As the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn, Kira blinked his red eyes and flickered out, but Light Yagami stayed, as he did all of those years ago, as he does every day.

In the morning, L will get up and make coffee, and Light will stumble out to join him after he showers. L will rattle off the facts of his newest case to Light as Light rubs the sleep from his eyes and pulls out the file of whomever he’s meeting with that day. Light still helps with cases, but more often than not these days, he works with the newly deradicalized, often young adults. Deradicalization has become something of Light’s specialty, and his expertise is sought out the world over. Each day, this man who was once so far lost himself returns people to their families, to the world. Each day, he sees hope where others would have seen only cause for despair, and L loves him and loves him and loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr @sapphistical!


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